


Of Monsters and Men

by GenericUsername01



Series: Star Trek Fairytales [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Beauty and the Beast, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, With some disney elements thrown in, based (mostly) on the perrault version
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 08:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13430598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenericUsername01/pseuds/GenericUsername01
Summary: It is the year 1623 and Jim Kirk meets a beast who claims to be a cursed alien from another world.





	Of Monsters and Men

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this fic has some warnings: first off, just a general heads up for the mess-up-ness inherent in any version of Beauty and the Beast, though I tried to make it better and I hope I did that well. Secondly, Jim's expectations following being kidnapped can be triggering for some and also Spock deals with a little suicide ideation. Use your best judgment. Also Spock’s a little ooc in the beginning because he has to follow the fairy tale plot, unfortunately

Once upon a time, there was a merchant named George Kirk. He was returning home through a forest from a long journey.

And he was lost as fuck.

For some reason, it was snowing, on top of it all. In the middle of summer, which was what he was dressed for. 

He had definitely seen that tree before. He was officially going in circles.

He heard wolves howling. He cursed and urged his horse on faster. 

Night was falling rapidly, and the temperature was falling with it. If he didn’t find shelter soon, he would freeze to death.

If the wolves didn’t get him first.

A monstrous castle came into view, and he nearly wept with relief. When he drew his horse up to it, the gates opened all on their own.

That was curious.

He led his horse into the stables and dismounted, removing the saddle and brushing her down. He made his way into the castle’s main building. The door swung open as he approached.

There were no servants. There wasn’t a single soul in sight.

It was dead silent.

He wandered past grand room after grand room, eventually stopping in one where a small fire was burning. His skin prickled with delicious warmth, and he laid down on the couch before the fireplace and took a nap.

He awoke some hours later feeling practically starved. There was a rolling tray full of hot food right beside the couch. It hadn’t been there before.

He ate.

His host never appeared for him to thank, whoever they were.

He left the castle itself and wound up in its gardens, where it was summer again, inexplicably. The air was soft and carried the scent of flowers, and the garden path was lined with trimmed rosebushes on each side.

Before he had left, George had asked his sons what they would like for him to bring back for them. Sam had asked for a wedding suit and a fine ring to propose to Aurelan with. Jim had asked for a single rose. And now here, there were roses.

He picked one.

A noise.

He whirled, and there was a beast, seven, eight feet tall and covered in long fur. Massive horns grew out of its head, reminiscent of a bull’s. Its paws ended in sharp, dark claws and its mouth was full of pointed teeth. It stood on its hind legs like a man and wore the clothes of a noble, cut for its ridiculous, animal-like frame.

“This is how you repay me? By stealing my roses? I give you shelter from the cold, food and a warm place to sleep, and in turn, you steal from my palace? What sort of lowly creature are you?”

He dropped the rose as if burned by it. “I—It was just a rose! I didn’t think you would miss such a little thing as a rose! I am so sorry, noble sir, your hospitality has been most generous and I am extremely grateful, believe me.” 

“There is nothing you could say that would save you from your just death,” the beast growled.

“Please! I didn’t steal it out of greed! My son asked me to bring him back a rose—I’m a travelling merchant, you see, and I was setting off on a long journey—and it was the only thing he asked for, and it was so simple to get. His brother asked for fine clothes and jewels. I didn’t think it would be missed, honest, or I never would have taken it.”

The beast paced in a restless circle, considering. “I will forgive you on one condition. You must give me one of your sons.”

George’s heart froze in his chest. But in the end, it was his life that was on the line here. “What excuse could I use to bring him here?”

“No excuse,” the beast replied. “He must come willingly. Go home. I shall give you one month to see if one of your sons will save you. If neither of them is willing to come to me, you must come back alone. Should you fail to do so, I shall come and fetch you myself. Do not think you can hide.”

* * *

 

He opened the door to his house and his sons rushed to greet him. He handed Jim his precious rose.

“Here. You have no idea what it has cost.”

“What do you mean?’

He sighed and sat down heavily in an armchair. “I got lost. In the woods. And I stumbled upon this castle. The host was very gracious, but I never saw them. Then, just as I was leaving, I stopped to pick a rose from the gardens. He saw and considered this stealing.

“He was a huge beast, not even human, but he talked like one. He said he would kill me in one month… unless one of my sons comes to live with him.”

Silence.

Silence. 

Silence.

“This is all your fault!” Sam screamed. “If you hadn’t asked for that stupid rose—“

“How was I supposed to know a rose would cause all this? It’s the middle of summer, it should have been so easy—“ 

“Now one of us has to go and suffer—“ 

“This is not my fault—“ 

“And do who knows what with that beast, who isn’t even human—“ 

“We don’t know what he’s planning, it might be noth—“ 

“Oh, I bet I can guess,” Sam said.

“You know what?” Jim snapped. “This _is_ my fault. I’ll do it. I’ll go. Fuck this, I’m not letting Dad die over my own stupid pride.”

“Jim—“ George started.

“You think I would let Dad die?” Sam asked. Jim shrugged.

“You’re the one who’s been talking about how much we’re going to have to suffer this whole time.”

“Ooh, how dare I complain when faced with a lifetime of imprisonment. I should have taken the news with a smile on my face.”

“That’s not what I’m saying!”

“Then what are you saying? That you’re better than me? More selfless than me?” 

“No! I’m just saying… If one of us has to go, it should be me. You have Aurelan. You’re going to be starting a family soon. Me, I’ve got no one. And you’re right. I caused this.”

“No you didn’t. You couldn’t have known. Jim, don’t punish yourself over some dumb mistake. You’re my little brother. It’s my job to protect you. I’ll go.”

“No! Dad, tell him I’m going.”

The blood drained from George’s face. “You expect me to choose?” he asked. “If you two can’t work this out by the end of the month, I will go to him and let him kill me. It’s not your fault, Jim. I was the one who stole the rose.”

“You’re not doing that,” Sam said.

“No way,” Jim agreed.

“I can’t ask one of you kids to sacrifice yourself for me. You’re both young, you have your whole lives ahead of you. I won’t let you pay for my sins.”

“Dad, this is your _life_ we’re talking about. We can handle a little hardship,” Sam said.

“I don’t think there’s going to be anything ‘little’ about this. You don’t know what you’re saying,” his father said.

“I know what I’m saying perfectly fine.”

“What about Aurelan, huh? You were going to marry her. You’re just going to give all that up now?”

“Hey,” Jim said. “We don’t have to figure everything out right now. We have a whole month. For now, let’s just sleep on it and we’ll talk it over some more in the morning.”

* * *

 

Once he was sure his family was deep asleep, Jim crept out of bed. He went to his father’s desk and pulled out the hand-drawn map to the castle he had made on his way back, stuffing it into his pocket. He wrote them both a note full of _sorry_ and _goodbye_ and _don’t follow me._

He slipped out of the creaky door as quietly as he could and stole over to the stables, saddling up his horse and leading him out slowly, avoiding the cobblestone road so as to minimize the sound of hooves clopping.

He rode into the woods and started out on the all-familiar path, then diverted at the fork and diverted again and again until he was in a part of the woods he didn’t recognize. It didn’t look like anyone had ever travelled here before, but he knew that wasn’t true.

He rode through the night and past dawn and daybreak and midmorning. He had to let the horse take breaks occasionally, lay down and drink water from streams. It was ten hours after he’d set out that he finally reached the castle.

His family would know he was gone by now. They would have discovered his note hours ago. He wondered distantly how they were taking it.

There was a chance they’d ride out and try to get him back. He had to make sure he’d established himself as the beast’s gift before then.

No sense wasting time. With a shaky breath, he urged his horse towards the gates, which swung open to greet him. He guided the horse up the path, and the doors to the castle opened. 

Out stepped the most ugly, horrifying _beast_ Jim had ever seen. It was a monster. A real, flesh-and-blood monster. Something out of a nightmare.

He forced himself to take even breaths and keep riding, keep moving forward.

The beast stopped directly in front of his horse. “Hello,” he said, in a deep, rumbling voice. “Are you one of George Kirk’s sons?” 

“I am. I’m Jim. James.”

“Have you come willingly?”

“I have.” 

“Good. Put your horse in the stable and come join me for luncheon.” With that, the beast turned on his heel and left, leaving behind a very, very confused Jim.

He did as he was told and entered the grand banquet hall, seeing a massive feast had been laid out in the half hour it took for him to tend to his horse. The beast was sitting at the head of the table. Jim took a seat at his right hand hesitantly.

The food served itself. Jim watched in wonder as plates and dishes lifted into the air all on their own and silverware dished food onto their plates. A wine bottle floated through the air and poured its contents into their glasses.

“How are you doing that?” Jim asked.

“Magic. This castle is enchanted,” the beast took a sip of his wine. “Did you not notice?”

“I figured it was a little, but I had no idea it went this far,” he said. “Do you have any servants?”

“Not anymore.”

“Not anymore? What happened?”

“They were all dismissed.”

“What? Why?”

But the beast didn’t answer, only continued eating his soup.

Jim took the hint and dropped it, digging in to his meal. It was delicious, which was surprising for food that had cooked itself. Or maybe it wasn’t. It was magical, after all.

Jim didn’t have much experience with magic. He worked in a smith’s yard, and everyone knew that a smith’s yard was the only place in town where you could be guaranteed there would be no magical problems or fay causing trouble. Iron absorbs magic. A smith’s yard is a black hole as far as it is concerned.

He would never go back to that smith’s yard. He would never see Scotty again. They had just been commissioned to design and build cannons for a ship that was about to launch; he would never finish that project.

One last month would have been nice. A chance to explain things, to say goodbye at least. But no. This had been necessary, he reminded himself firmly. It had been necessary to leave before Sam or Dad thought of doing it.

“Is something the matter?” the beast asked.

“What? No. Just thinking,” he said. “Hey, um. Do you have a name? You already know mine, I just—I forgot to ask yours.”

“I am Spock.”

“That’s a lovely name. Where’s it from?”

“Vulcan.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I imagine you wouldn’t have. It is a planet in a solar system not far from here.”

Jim set down his spoon. “Okay. What?” 

“I am not of Earth.”

“I don’t believe you. That’s not possible.”

“I assure you it is.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” 

“Alright.”

“What?” 

“I shall prove it.”

* * *

 

“Oh, what the fuck. What the fuck.”

Jim was standing in a spaceship.

It was the Earth year 1623 and Jim was standing in a spaceship.

“This is my starship,” Spock said, because duh.

“What in the holy hell is a starship?”

“A ship that sails the stars.”

“Are you telling me you came from heaven?”

“The heavens, yes, essentially.”

Jim eyed him and his monstrous form. “Are you a demon?”

“No.”

“Fallen angel?”

“No.”

“Regular angel?”

“No.” 

“Then what are you?”

“I am not a creature of Earth’s divinity. I am simply from another world. An alien, if you will.”

Jim sat down in a chair like nothing he had ever seen before, one made of strange materials, not cloth or wood or stone. “So you came here in this ship of stars. Why?”

“I was banished here by my people.”

“What for?”

“For being a hybrid. I was cursed by a Vulcan sorcerer to look as ugly to other people as I was to my own.”

“You didn’t always look like this?” Jim had assumed that was his species’ natural form. “What do Vulcans normally look like?”

“Quite a bit like humans. Though we differ greatly when it comes to internal functions.”

Jim thought about that. So Spock had been a regular man once, a man just like him. “Is there any way to undo the curse?”

Spock’s muzzle twitched. “I am looking into it.”

Jim gave him a strange look. “Alright. Well, will you at least tell me about your ship a bit? How does all this work? Is it magic too?”

“No. It is science.”

“Science?”

“Are you familiar with the concept?”

He bristled. “Of course. I am a blacksmith, after all. I’ve been trained in alchemy as well.”

“Engineering and chemistry,” Spock murmured. Then louder, “What do you know of physics? Of the natural laws governing this world and the movement of the stars?”

“You mean astronomy?”

“In part.”

Jim shrugged. “My father taught me of God and the spirits, and my mother of the magicks of the world. I’m a heliocentrist, personally. I know that goes against some people’s faith, but I believe in the science of it.”

“I believe I am unfamiliar with that word, ‘heliocentrist.’ Would you mind explaining it?”

“I believe the Earth goes around the sun, not the other way around. It’s not the most popular theory, obviously, but it’s catching on.”

And Spock wouldn’t and couldn’t smile, but he imagined a human would.

“It is my honor to inform you that you are correct. The Earth orbits Sol, which has the superior gravity.”

“Gravity?”

Spock turned and pressed at some buttons on a console, claws clicking. “Ah. I apologize. Humans have yet to discover gravity.”

“What’s gravity?” Jim asked, now interested.

Spock hesitated, and Jim seemed to notice. “Come on. Who am I gonna tell? I’m stuck here forever, right?”

Spock showed no emotion but his heart panged with guilt and sadness. Jim was his last chance at breaking the curse. He had to take his last chance, didn’t he?

Even if it was killing him to have done this to a creature so bright and young and full of life.

He could not possibly refuse Jim any requests. Not now. 

“Gravity is the force that draws all objects within the universe towards one another. Larger objects have more gravity, hence something as big as a star being able to hold entire planets within its orbit using gravity and inertia alone.”

“What’s inertia?”

They talked for hours after that, Spock answering every last one of his questions and Jim listening with rapt attention. Then the sun set and Jim kept yawning and Spock insisted that they retire for the evening and Jim tensed up immediately.

But first.

“Jim, will you marry me?”

Jim froze and tensed even further, if that was possible.

“Two men can’t marry each other,” he said.

“They can in my culture.” 

“What do you expect me to say here?” he asked gruffly. “You want me to lie? You want me to say that I love you? Is that it?”

“Answer honestly without fear.”

“Alright then. No. I won’t marry you.”

Jim didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Spock to nod a bit sadly and say “Very well” then turn and leave Jim alone in his spaceship.

* * *

 

Jim paced around the room he had been given anxiously. He was waiting for Spock to appear.

He was half-surprised he had been given his own room, to be honest. He supposed Spock didn’t want to actually sleep with him. He only wanted to do that in the euphemistic sense, it seemed.

And he did want to do that. Jim knew desire when he saw it, and he saw it in Spock.

He paced.

It had been a half an hour. If Spock was expecting Jim to come to him, then he was in for a hell of a long wait. He may have come to the castle willingly, to save his family, but that was as far as he went.

An hour passed, and then two. Jim sat down in a chair for a while, drumming his fingers and shifting. Then he found he had too much restless energy to sit still, and so he got up again.

He paced.

Maybe Spock wasn’t coming.

That didn’t make any sense. Who kidnaps someone, proposes marriage to them, and then suddenly decides to leave them alone?

Maybe he wanted the anxiety to build. Maybe he knew what having to wait was doing to Jim. Maybe he wanted him asleep and unconscious first. 

As if Jim could sleep.

* * *

 

He fell asleep.

_He was walking in a woods on a hunt, following the path of a stream._

_A sound._

_He drew his bow like lightning and had his arrow notched in an instant._

_It was a person. He lowered the weapon._

_A man, specifically, with ink-black hair and deep brown eyes and the fairest of skin. His ears were elven, and his beauty was such that Jim suspected him to be fay. He wore strange clothes from some foreign land, long robes in shades of greens and blues._

_Something about his eyes._

_“Who are you?” Jim asked._

_The fay ignored the question. “You are not so unlucky as you suppose. Only try to find me, however I may be disguised. Make me happy and you shall be happy. Be as true-hearted as you are beautiful, and we shall have nothing left to wish for.”_

_“What can I do, faerie, to make you happy?”_

_“Do not trust your eyes,” he answered, “and set me free from my misery.”_

Jim awoke with a start.

What the hell? Could he not even have normal dreams in this palace?

And what did that mean, ‘do not trust your eyes’? If he could not trust the evidence he saw before him, then what could he trust?

Set him free. Was the faerie a prisoner here? How could Jim find him?

He was overthinking this. It was just a dream. Just a weird, stress-induced dream. It hadn’t been real. The faerie hadn’t been real.

Jim calmed his heart rate and lay back down to sleep, hoping this time it would be peaceful.

* * *

 

He woke up and explored the castle. The place was huge. It took all day. He got bored quick, but he had nothing else to do, and it was prudent to familiarize himself with his surroundings.

He was not, in fact, looking for the faerie.

Before he knew it, the day had passed and it was time for supper with the beast. With Spock.

They didn’t talk. The air felt heavy.

Jim cleared his throat.

“What is your family like?” Spock asked suddenly.

Jim stared at him. “Are you kidding me?”

“I am unfamiliar with that concept.”

“We’re just gonna talk about my family now as if this is totally normal?”

“I fail to see why not.”

“Why didn’t you come into my room last night?”

Spock raised an extremely bushy eyebrow. “Would my presence have been welcomed there?”

“No.”

“Then why—I do not understand.”

Jim threw his hands up. “Neither do I! I don’t understand any of this, Spock. What am I here for, really? Why did you bring me here?”

“I cannot say.”

“You cannot or you will not?”

“I cannot in good conscience.”

Jim put his chin in his hands and glared at him.

For several long, long minutes.

Spock’s Vulcan control prevented him from shifting uncomfortably.

“My family’s pretty okay.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My family. They’re good people. My brother’s about to propose to his suitor. Both he and my dad offered to come here in my place. That’s why I came so early. To make sure they wouldn’t.”

“I am sorry.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t seem like you’re lying,” he said suspiciously.

“I am not.”

“You sure you can’t tell me what this is all about?”

“I am certain.”

He sighed. ”You really aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”

“I have made it as simple as I can.”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

Spock was at a loss.

“So what about you? What’s your family like? Assuming you have one.”

“I have. My family is… untraditional by my culture’s standards.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I am a hybrid. Such beings are rare on Vulcan. It is a very insular society. In addition, my sister is adopted and not Vulcan. Neither is my mother.”

“Do you have any other siblings?”

“Yes. A half-brother.” 

Jim nodded. “So I don’t know if this is rude to ask or not, and if it is you don’t have to answer, but you’re a mix of Vulcan and what exactly?”

“Human.”

“What?”

“I am half-human.” 

“How is that even possible?”

“My existence is the result of genetic engineering.”

“What’s that?” he asked. “Wait, no. Answer that later. First, that’s not what I meant. How on God’s green Earth did a human and Vulcan get together in the first place?”

“My father was part of the scouting mission sent to assess Earth’s technological capabilities and stage of development. While here, he met a woman and fell in love. Since he could not reasonably live out the rest of his life on Earth, she agreed to go with him back to Vulcan, along with her adoptive daughter.”

“Huh,” Jim said. “So when you say Vulcans don’t look that different from humans…” 

“The differences are negligible.”

“Interesting,” he said. “I’d love to know what you really look like. How old are you, anyway?”

“Vulcans do not age at the same rate as humans, nor are our years the same length. There is no way to comparably translate my age into the human approximation. Suffice to say, I am a young adult, marginally older than you are, by my estimate.” 

“Okay,” he said. “Now explain genetic engineering to me.”

So Spock did, and they spent the evening discussing DNA and molecular structure and amino acids. Jim caught on fast, and took to the advanced science like a fish to water. Spock was endlessly intrigued by him. His human was brilliant. In another era, he might have been a great scientist. As it was, he was already able to keep up with the information as fast as Spock gave it to him, and his questions and theories were intelligent, illogical, brilliantly creative.

He was brilliant.

The end of the night came and Spock tried to make his growling, gravelly voice as soft as possible. “Jim, will you marry me?”

His mouth twitched. “No.”

* * *

 

_He was by the creek again, and so was his faerie. Jim’s heart skipped when he saw him._

_He looked at him with his beautiful, doe-like eyes. “Jim. Why do you continue to refuse me? Why do you not set me free?”_

_His voice was almost familiar, but not quite, and Jim couldn’t place what it reminded him of._

_“I don’t know how,” he said helplessly._

_“I have shown you the way.”_

_“Yeah? Well could you do it a bit more clearly?”_

_His faerie just looked at him sadly and faded away._

* * *

 

_Spock dreamt of himself as he was ten years ago, in his natural, Vulcan form._

_He was behind the school, back pressed up against the wall, doing his best to stare down Stonn and his lackeys._

_This again. Why did he always have to dream of this?_

_His mother said he was rewarded Stonn’s special attention because he was jealous of him, jealous of his bond to T’Pring. Spock found that hard to believe. For one thing, Vulcans do not get jealous. For another, Stonn seemed to look down on him, not envy him._

_One of his schoolmates punched him in the gut and he doubled over. Another kicked him hard just above the heart and he fell to his knees._

_Stonn approached and yanked his head up, forcing him to meet his eyes. His face was a stone wall of impassivity, as purely Vulcan as his blood was._

_“You do not appear to be learning your lesson,” he said in monotone. “We have told you repeatedly that you are not welcome in this school or in this city. Yet illogically, you have yet to leave, further proving your unsuitability to the Vulcan way.”_

_He stood and took a step back. “You must require greater incentive.”_

_His friend to the right handed him a cloth pouch of something, and he threw a pinch of it on the ground in front of Spock, then sprinkled some on top of his head._

_Overwhelming dread took hold of him and he hurriedly brushed the substance out of his hair, but Stonn didn’t seem too concerned by that. His family was known throughout the province for their mastery of Vulcan mysticism. He started chanting in High Golic._

_“Beast of fur, beast of fang,_

_Human song thy heart does pang._

_Hear my words and heed thy quest,_

_Nevermore thine mind shall rest._

_Ye shall be as a beast_

_‘Til your human wedding feast.”_

_A cloud of smoke and swirling light encased him, lifting him up off the ground. Thick brown fur grew out of him from all over. His teeth sharpened and elongated. His bones reformed and reshaped painfully and he was screaming, he was screaming and he couldn’t stop. Thick layers of muscle grew where they didn’t used to be and suddenly he was huge, monstrous, too big for his clothes, which shredded around him, leaving him naked._

_He was screaming._

_He was roaring._

_His schoolmates had run away by the time he dropped to the ground._

* * *

 

Jim was a peasant. He usually spent his days working. He wasn’t sure what to do when he _wasn’t_ working.

He considered going out to the gardens. It was a nice day out, all the fountains were running, the sun was shining and it looked warm.

He managed to get horribly lost trying to find his way out of the castle.

He somehow managed to wind up in a bird room? A room full of birds?

All kinds of birds, actually. Most were exotic, and some didn’t even look like they were from Earth. Maybe they weren’t.

And they were all as tame and friendly as any other pet.

Jim was wonderstruck.

They sang and flitted all around him, above his head, some coming to land on his arms, and he stroked their heads gently, a huge smile on his face.

“Hello. My name is Jim,” he said.

“Jim! Jim!” a cockatoo squawked, and he laughed.

“Wow, I wish your room was closer to my own so I could hear you sing all the time,” he said.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed, letting the birds land on him and sing to him, but when he left, he opened the door and walked straight into his room.

Enchanted palace. Right.

There was a clatter of commotion coming from the floor below. Voices shouting, people yelling. He dashed down the stairs.

Jim’s mother was practically shaking with rage, yelling at the beast, who stared back impassively. His brother and father stood behind her in support.

“Mom! Mom! What’s going on?”

“Jim!” she rushed over and gave him a bone-crushing hug. “How dare you! How dare you run off without even saying goodbye! We were supposed to have another month!”

“I left a note—“

“A note?! _A note?!”_ she shrieked. “You think _a note_ was good enough?”

“I was not aware that you did not bid your farewells to your family, Jim,” Spock said, the traitor.

“I did what I had to do, alright?” he said defensively. “If I hadn’t left that night, then it wouldn’t have been too long before Sam or Dad thought of doing the exact same thing.”

“Jim, what you did was called being an asshole,” Sam said.

“Since you are here,” Spock said. “Perhaps you would like to stay for a while?”

Sam laughed. His father looked at him with horrible fear in his eyes.

“If the suggestion is disagreeable—“

“We’d love to,” Winona cut in. 

“In that case, I shall have a tea prepared for your enjoyment.”

“Alright. Tea with Jim’s kidnapper, because why not? Nothing fucked up about that,” Sam said under his breath.

* * *

 

Tea was awkward.

No one was talking. No one knew what to say.

Winona cleared her throat. “Um, Jim, Dr. McCoy sends his regards.” Sam snorted, and Jim knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that that was not what the good doctor had said.

“Alright. Tell him I love him too.” Spock’s eyebrow raised, and he hurriedly added, “Not like that.”

George was clenching his fork so tight it looked like it might snap. Jim’s face burned. There was no way he could explain that. There was no way to casually say over tea ‘hey, no, I’m not being raped and in fear for my life, he just keeps proposing and for some reason I don’t wanna break the guy’s heart.’

So he said nothing.

Silverware clinked.

“Um, is there any way we can talk to Jim in private? After this?” Winona asked.

“Of course,” Spock said. “Additionally, there is a room down the corridor filled with many fine things. I encourage you to take whatever you wish, as an expression of my gratitude.”

“Thanks,” Sam said dryly.

* * *

 

“Jim, are you okay? Has he been treating you alright?” Winona asked once they were in ‘the room with many fine things,’ hugging him firmly again.

“Yes, I’m fine. It’s not as bad as you think. He doesn’t…” Ooh, how to say it. “He leaves me alone. He honestly just wanted someone to come live with him. I think he’s lonely.”

“Promise you aren’t lying?”

“I promise.”

Sam gave him a hard, penetrating look. Jim met it head-on.

“I’m serious, guys. I’m fine.”

Sam was still looking at him suspiciously, but he nodded. “Alright. So let’s see about these many fine things, shall we?”

Spock had given them two empty trunks to fill. In the wardrobe was an abundance of clothes fit for royalty, worth a small fortune, and—as if by magic—perfectly tailored to all of them. Jim opened a cupboard and found it shoved full to the brim with gems and precious stones. They opened the closet and found it full of more gold bars than they could ever possibly carry away.

“I think the gold will be more useful to you. Let’s take all the other stuff back out and just fill the trunks with gold,” Jim suggested.

They filled the trunks with so much gold that an elephant couldn’t have carried them.

“The beast was making fun of us,” George said. “He pretended to give us all this, but he knew we couldn’t possibly take it with us.”

“His name is Spock,” Jim said.

“What?” Sam laughed incredulously.

“His name is Spock,” he repeated. “And let’s just give it a chance, alright?”

He pulled on the handle of the trunk with all his strength and lifted up like it was lighter than air, almost accidentally tossing it across the room before he caught it with one hand and settled it in his arms.

“See? It’s an enchanted castle,” he said proudly.

* * *

 

Spock gave them an additional horse, just to carry the trunks with. It was a proud Arabian, finer than any of the others they owned.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Winona said, hugging her son tightly, as if she could somehow keep him with her if she just refused to let go.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” he said.

“You are welcome to visit anytime that you wish,” Spock said.

“Well gee, thanks,” Sam snapped. Winona elbowed him.

“That is very kind of you, Mr. Spock.”

“It is nothing,” he said. He felt like dirt. He felt lower than dirt. He was exactly as monstrous as they saw him, wasn’t he? Stonn’s curse may have only been skin-deep, but he had become a monster in the fullest sense of the word.

All this to break a curse. How selfish was he? 

Perhaps he deserved to live as a beast, as an outcast on a foreign world, rejected by his own and turned into some horrible creature from children’s nightmares.

Perhaps he deserved it.

* * *

 

He proposed again that night. Jim refused him again, and it felt like a slap, and he relished the burn of the hurt.

He deserved it.

* * *

 

_Jim met his faerie in the woods by the stream._

_“How do I find you?” he asked._

_“You already have.”_

_“I mean outside of dreams.”_

_“You must let your heart guide you, my beauty. If I am not to be freed, then so be it. What is, is.”_

_“No,” Jim said, anger burning through him. “No, you can’t just accept that. Everyone deserves to be free. Just tell me where the beast is keeping you and I can set you free while he sleeps.”_

_“The beast does not imprison me in the way you think it does.”_

_“Is he threatening your family too?”_

_The faerie closed his eyes for a brief, steadying moment. “I do not deserve to be free. You do. Farewell, my beauty.”_

_“No, wait—“_

Jim jerked up in bed and cursed.

What a stubborn asshole. He supposed that fit with what he knew of the fay. Though he had never heard of them being self-sacrificing—usually it was the other way around.

Why was he acting like this was even real? It was just a dream, wasn’t it?

Or could the enchanted surroundings be giving him visions of reality?

His head hurt. He was too tired for this. He rolled over in bed and went back to sleep.

* * *

 

Spock was debating.

Now that Jim had established himself in the castle, he had become entwined with Spock’s lifeforce. Should he leave, Spock would die at the close of two months.

Jim deserved his freedom. And what did Spock truly deserve, after all of this? After what he had done to Jim? His precious, amazing Jim, who he had stolen the life away from.

“What are you thinking about?” Jim asked over breakfast.

“Nothing of import.”

“That’s a lie,” he said, pointing with his fork. 

Spock hummed noncommittally.

“Spock? Hellooo, Earth to Spock?”

He looked up. “Yes?”

“What’s going on with you? You’ve been distant lately.”

“My apologies.”

“That’s not what I meant. Just talk to me, Spock. I mean, come on. What else am I even here for?”

“I cannot say.”

“We’re the only two people around for miles, Spock. You can’t avoid me.”

Spock said nothing, and Jim sighed.

“Well, if you don’t wanna talk about it, can we at least talk about something? Tell me something I don’t know. Tell me… tell me why the stars move.”

And Spock could refuse him nothing.

* * *

 

“Have you ever had any dealings with the fay?” Jim asked.

“No,” Spock replied succinctly.

Jim frowned.

* * *

 

“There is something that I wish to show you,” Spock said, leading Jim by the wrists, who had his eyes closed. “Your thirst for knowledge has proven insatiable, and you have on numerous occasions expressed the desire to read, so I think I have come up with a way to satisfy those two needs simultaneously.”

He stopped Jim in the center of the room. “You may open your eyes now.”

Jim did, and he gasped.

He stood in the center of the most massive library he had ever seen, had ever dreamed of. There were shelves upon shelves of books, books lining the walls all the way up to the ceiling two stories high. There was a balcony ringing the spacious room and rolling ladders scattered throughout, on both floors.

It was like a dream come true. It was like heaven. It was paradise.

“This room contains all the combined scientific knowledge of Vulcan, as well as our more prominent philosophical teachings, historical writings, and ancient poetry. It was originally stored in datafiles, but I had it converted into a form that would be more easily comprehensible to you.”

“You did all this?” he asked, looking around in wonder.

“For you, anything,” he said. “Jim. Will you marry me?”

“Spock, c’mon, don’t do this. Don’t ruin a good night.”

He didn’t flinch. “I fail to see how this would ruin our night.”

“You know what I’m gonna say.”

“Nevertheless, I must hope that one day your answer will change.”

“It won’t.” 

“I continue to hold out hope.”

Jim sighed and gave him a sad, pitying smile.

* * *

 

“Do you like it here?”

“Hm?”

“Do you like living on Earth? Why don’t you… I don’t know, why don’t you get back in your spaceship and fly away? Go back home? You do miss it, right?”

“I do.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“I wish to break the curse before returning to my parents.”

Jim gave him a hard look. “You never said your goodbyes either, did you?”

“I wished to spare them.”

“So what? You just dropped off the face of the planet?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Do your parents even know you’re still alive? You just came up missing one day. They probably assumed the worst.”

“Once I arrived on Earth, I constructed a primitive communications device and sent them a subspace message explaining my whereabouts.”

“You left a note.”

“An apt metaphor, yes.”

“You said your mother’s human, right?”

“Indeed.”

“Yeah, she’s super pissed at you. You need to contact her again. Right now.”

* * *

 

“So how does this all work?”

“Subspace messages are transmitted via—“

“No, no, I mean, what do you do? You just press a button and talk?”

“Essentially. I shall turn on the recording device and speak into the microphone. When I am done speaking, I turn off the recording device and send the transmission.”

“Sounds cool. Hey, uh, do you want some privacy, for this?”

“It is acceptable for you to stay if you wish.” And Jim read that as _please please please stay and don’t make me do this alone._ He smiled and took a seat.

Spock closed his eyes for a brief moment and pressed a button.

“Hello, Mother,” he began. “And Father. I apologize for the long interval between this and my last message. I trust you will understand there were extenuating circumstances.”

“No there weren’t,” Jim said.

“Please be quiet. As I was saying, I am perfectly fine and nothing is the matter. I—“

Jim hit the pause recording button. “Do your parents not know about the curse?”

Spock hesitated.

“Oh my god! Are you kidding me? Why do they think you left the planet all that long ago? Wait, how long have you been gone?”

“Approximately ten Terran years.”

“Ten _years?!_ And you didn’t tell them why?” he asked. “What exactly did you say in your last message to them?”

“I communicated to them the idea that I had been disgraced in some way and was reluctant to return home until I could ensure doing so would not bring undue shame upon my family.”

“Disgraced? That’s what you call it?” 

“What would you prefer I called it? Shamed? Condemned? Humiliated?”

“You weren’t... _disgraced._ You didn’t do anything wrong or bring this upon yourself somehow. You have nothing to be ashamed about.”

Spock met his eyes. “I have plenty to be ashamed about.”

Jim held his gaze firmly. “No, you don’t. Being a hybrid is nothing to be ashamed about. It’s the seventeenth century, for cryin’ out loud! I once met a fella who was half French and half English, and if he can turn out alright with a family history like that, then anybody can.”

“I am not ashamed of my heritage. I am ashamed of what I have done to you.”

A pause.

“Oh,” he said. “Then why’d you do it?”

“I cannot say.”

“Y’know, it’d be a lot easier to fulfill my purpose in being here and move on already if you would tell me what that purpose was.”

Spock considered it for a moment. “Very well. You are here to marry me.” 

“Why do you keep asking me then? Why not just force me to?”

“I would never.”

“Why not? You forced me to come here.”

Spock said nothing. He turned back to the console in his starship and continued the recording.

* * *

 

“What are you working on?” Spock asked.

“I’m reverse-engineering this communications device to make one of my own.”

“If you desired a communicator, you had only to ask.”

“I know. But it’s more fun to make it myself.”

“I see.”

The device was a mess of wires and components spread out on the coffee table before the hearth. It appeared to be half-finished, but then, Spock had no real way of knowing.

He was again struck by the sheer intelligence and ingenuity of Jim’s mind. He was a genius. He did not belong here, trapped like a bird in a cage. Such a magnificent being should always be free.

Spock was debating.

* * *

 

_“Can you tell me where you are?” Jim asked the faerie._

_“I am right before you,” he replied._

_“No. No, I mean outside of dreams. What does the place look like? What are you surrounded by? Are you in a cell?”_

_“My prison is not a physical one.”_

_“What the hell did Spock do to you?” Jim asked, startled, realizing how little he really knew about his captor._

_His captor. That made it sound like he was being kept tied up in a dungeon somewhere, which was about as far from reality as it could get._

_Though he wouldn’t mind if his faerie tied him up and did things to him._

_“Spock has done nothing to me,” the faerie said cryptically._

_“But this whole time, you’ve been saying you’re imprisoned.”_

_“In a sense.”_

_“What does that mean?” Jim asked, frustrated._

_The dream faded away like_ _mist in the morning._

* * *

 

“Do you ever leave the castle?”

“No.”

“I have no reason to. In addition, my appearance tends to incite fear among humans.”

“Well can I? I just wanna go on a hunt. The castle is nice, and the gardens are great, but I’m just feeling a bit… claustrophobic.”

“I see no reason why you should not, so long as you return at the end of the day,” Spock said. “However, you should know that I am a vegetarian.”

“What’s that?”

“It means I do not eat meat. I will not consume anything that you bring back, out of a sense of personal morality that forbids me from using another creature’s life to sustain my own.”

As soon as he said it, he realized how hypocritical and untrue it was, and guilt panged through him.

“Huh,” Jim said. “I guess I never thought of it that way. I was wondering why you never served any meat.” He tossed on a jacket and shouldered his bow and quiver. “Well, I’ll do my best to respect that. I promise I won’t eat any meat in front of you if that weirds you out, okay?”

“I thank you, but that is unnecessary. You do not need to go to any extra lengths for my sake.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I insist.” He smiled.

Spock hated himself.

* * *

 

He had never even seen the wolves coming.

He hadn’t seen Spock coming either, didn’t even know how the guy had known he was in danger, but there he was, down on all fours and growling, placing himself between Jim and the wolf pack.

He snarled. The wolves bared their teeth, circling.

They lunged.

A howl, the snapping of teeth, the tearing of flesh. Howls and howls of pain, higher pitched now. Blood on snow and leaving a dripping trail as the wolves retreated.

Spock attempted to stand back up, wavered, and then collapsed.

* * *

 

“That was a really stupid thing to do, you know,” Jim said to Spock’s unconscious body, cleaning the wound in his shoulder with a wet cloth. “Take on an entire wolf pack. You could’ve been killed.”

He sighed and leaned back, the fire behind him warming him. He draped a blanket over Spock. There was blood caked in his fur. He tried to wash it out as gently as possible, but it was dried in, and simply touching it caused the Vulcan to stir.

“Hnnph,” he groaned.

“Sorry if that hurts.”

“’Tis fine,” Spock murmured. He seemed to be waking up in stages. “Pain is of the mind. The mind can be controlled.”

“Spock, you aren’t weak or un-Vulcan or whatever just because you feel pain. I don’t know what those people back on that planet told you, but every living creature feels pain. It’s a part of life.”

“An unnecessary part.” Jim ran the cloth over the wound again, and he hissed and tensed.

“How’d you know to come looking for me?” Jim asked. “In the woods. You followed me. Why? Did you think I was going to run away?”

“No. I was merely aware that is an abundance of wolves in the area.”

“Don’t lie to me, Spock. At least give me that.”

“I am not lying. I trust you, Jim, I will not watch you constantly as one would a child.”

“Good. Because I know what the consequences would be for running away. I’m not that stupid. Or that selfish.”

“Jim, I—“ his breath caught. “I would not harm your family. What I have done to you is despicable. And unforgivable. You are free to leave without fear of repercussions. I should have let you go long ago. I apologize deeply.”

Jim’s hand stilled in its ministrations. He stared at Spock like he was a puzzle he was trying to solve. He stared at him the same way he stared at new technology before taking it apart and putting it back together again.

“You went to great lengths to get me here,” he said slowly. “You must have had a hell of a good reason and you still haven’t told me what it is. That marriage thing? That was a lie. There’s more to it than that.”

“Why do you believe so?”

“You seem pretty desperate to marry any random person, and don’t tell me that isn’t the situation here, because I won’t believe that you fell in love with me on the first night.”

“Is it so ridiculous that I should love you?”

Jim stared at him. “I mean, technically, I suppose not. Anything’s possible, apparently. But for you to have fallen in love at first sight? Yeah, that’s ridiculous. I’m not buying it.”

A moment of tense silence passed as Spock refused to explain any further.

“No,” Jim said.

“’No’ what?”

“No, I’m not leaving. I have unfinished business here,” he said, thinking of his mysterious faerie. “I’m gonna figure you out, Mr. Spock. Whether you like it or not.”

* * *

 

Things Jim Kirk Knows About His Faerie:

  1. He is imprisoned in a metaphysical sense somehow.
  2. He’s really hot.
  3. He appears to him every night in his dreams to spout cryptic messages and fuel some late-night fantasies.
  4. Jim is determined to rescue him.
  5. His presence is tied to the castle somehow.
  6. He’s really hot, which makes the list twice because he’s _really hot._



Jim asks Spock for a copy of the castle’s blueprints and overlays a numerical search grid on top of them. He systematically searches the castle from top to bottom, looking in every closet, every hallway, every unchecked nook. He leaves no stone unturned.

No luck.

He refuses to give up though, and confronts Spock about it that night at dinner.

“Do you ever have weird dreams here?”

“I find all dreams unusual in one respect or another.”

“Yeah, but like, dreams that aren’t like normal dreams. Dreams that feel real.”

“It is normal to feel an altered state of reality while in the REM stage of sleep. Perception cannot be trusted during this time.”

“C’mon, Spock, you know what I’m talking about. Do you or don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Great! What of?”

“I cannot say.” 

“Oh my god,” Jim groaned. “You know, I officially hate that phrase because of you. I’m choosing to stay here, which is obviously very important to you for some reason. The least you could do is communicate. Work with me here.”

“I assure that my reasons for withholding information are not selfish nor petty. I do it out of a desire to leave you emotionally unburdened.”

“I’m a grown man, Spock. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

“To disclose certain information to you would manipulate your actions. It would make you feel as though you had no choice in certain matters. To do so would be an abuse.”

“So what you’re saying here,” he said. “Is that if I knew the whole truth, I would feel morally obligated to do something about it. But you don’t want that for me. You want me to come to whatever conclusion I’m supposed to come to on my own.”

“Indeed.”

“Have you considered that withholding certain facts is in itself manipulative? How can I make an informed decision without knowing what I’m getting myself into?”

He faltered. “I had not. However, I can assure you that the decision to which I am referring will have unforeseen negative consequences. You will know ‘what you are getting yourself into,’ essentially. Though there may be some surprises, I do not think they will be unduly troubling to you.”

“See, how do I know if that’s true or not? What if what seems totally fine to you actually is ‘unduly troubling’ to me?”

“I admit I have done nothing to deserve your trust. You do not have to believe me. If you wish to leave, you may.” 

Jim groaned and leaned back in his chair. “Just tell me what the big secret is already!”

“To do so is morally repulsive to me.”

“But I want to _know!”_

“Jim, I am sorry,” he said, setting his fork down, finished with the meal. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh my god,” he said. _“No.”_

* * *

 

 “Hold still just a sec, you’ve got something in your fur,” Jim said the next day. He reached up and gently untangled a thread that had somehow knotted itself under Spock’s jowls. He combed his fingers through the thick fur and smoothed it down.

“Thank you,” Spock said, and it sounded ridiculous, such soft and polite words coming from a monstrous-looking being, and Jim smiled.

Spock was cute, he decided. Not cute in a physically attractive sense—Jim was certain that he would never be attracted to him in that way. But cute in the way furry animals were. Cute by virtue of the juxtaposition of supreme intelligence trapped in a bear-like, beastly form. Jim imagined him as some wise storybook character who spoke in riddles and taught children lessons about life and morality and whatnot.

He didn’t realize when he had stopped seeing him as dangerous, but now the idea seemed almost laughable. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Spock would never harm him. And the previous threat to his family had been a bluff. Who was Spock kidding, he can’t even bring himself to kill a chicken to eat it, how one Earth could he ever find it in him to take the life of a sentient being? Jim doubted that the guy even swatted at mosquitoes.

He felt a little stupid for having genuinely believed that threat for so long. He had been played like a fiddle. But he knew better now. And he knew how far Spock was willing to go to bring someone here.

Which made his offer for Jim to leave make less and less sense.

He had a hard time believing that whatever this situation was was life and death, but what else could it be? What else could drive Spock to act like this? More importantly, if it was life and death, then what exactly did his letting him go imply?

Spock said telling him the truth would make him feel like he had no choice. 

He read. He engineered. He talked with Spock. And he pretended he wasn’t starting to get the picture.

* * *

 

_“How real is this? If I wanted to, could I reach out and touch you?” Jim asked._

_“Yes.”_

_“Really?” he asked, intrigued, stepping closer._

_He kissed him, softly. The faerie melted under his hands, letting out a soft moan when Jim’s tongue slipped in his mouth._

_He kissed his way down the man’s jawline and whispered against his throat. “Can you feel this?”_

_“I—please—“_

_“That’s right,” he said. “Please what?”_

_“Please—touch me.”_

_Jim grinned lecherously and leaned down to get underneath the faerie’s robes. He ran his hand all the way up his leg until he reached his length and he gripped and began stroking._

_The faerie’s pupils were blown wide, his breath becoming shallow as Jim increased speed and pressure and did this one trick with his thumb that made him gasp._

_“Jim,” the faerie breathed. “Ashayam. My t’hy’la—“_

_A sharp intake of breath._

_“You called me Jim,” he said, taking a step back._

_Spock was stricken to realize his mistake._

_“You know my name,” he said. “I never told you my name.”_

_“Jim, I—“_

_The dream ended with a snap as Jim severed their mental link._

* * *

 

“What does ashayam mean?” Jim asked that morning at breakfast.

Spock was—for the first time in his life—grateful for the thick fur that hid his furious blush.

“Where did you hear that word?” His voice came out high and tight.

“So you do know it, then. It must be a Vulcan word,” he said. “And you assumed I heard it rather than read it, even though I’ve been reading Vulcan texts nonstop. Maybe it was a word from a poem that didn’t translate.”

Spock froze in his seat. He didn’t dare say another word.

“You said you’ve been having dreams,” Jim continued. “What happens in these dreams?"

“Nothing of interest.”

“Oh, but I’m interested. I wanna know.” He leaned forward and rested his chin in his hands. “Tell me anyway?”

“Jim—“

“Say that again.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Say my name again.”

His face burned. Quiet as a whisper, he complied. “Jim.”

He recognized that voice.

“It was you,” he said. “It was you all along. It’s always been you.”

“Jim—“

_“Don’t,”_ he said. He laughed bitterly. “Now I know what you really look like. I guess I have all along, haven’t I? You really played me the fool.”

“That was never my intention.”

“Then what _was_ your intention?”

“I had no control over the dreams’ occurrence. I was made as unwilling a participant as you were. I tried to behave there exactly as I did here and give nothing away—“

“Which worked out so great,” he said. “You really strung me along, Spock. I had no idea.”

“I did not know that you would—“

“You didn’t know, you didn’t know, whatever,” he said. “I didn’t know either. And look where that’s gotten us. Maybe instead of this mutual not knowing we can instead communicate and you could fucking _talk to me_ for once.”

Silence rang loud as thunder.

“Spock. This is the last time I’m going to ask this. Why did you bring me here?”

He said nothing.

Seconds ticked by, turned into minutes.

Jim pushed his chair back abruptly and stood, storming out of the banquet hall. Spock followed close at hand.

“Do you intend to leave the castle?” he asked.

“Yeah. Thought that was pretty obvious. Unless I didn’t communicate it well enough.”

“Jim, I am sorry—“

“You’re always sorry.”

He took his hand in his paw. “Beloved.”

“What?”

“Ashayam means beloved.”

He seemed to deflate. He pressed the heels of his hands into his temples, trying to rub away a headache. “It’s a bit late for that.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I’ve made that plenty clear.”

“I do not wish to manipulate you.”

“You’ll tell me or I’ll walk right out that door, Spock. I’m sick of this. I’m sick of not knowing. I’m sick of being toyed with. And I never thought I was the type of guy to give out ultimatums, but you know what? You’re forcing my hand here. So tell me. What’s the big secret?”

Spock closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Met Jim’s gaze. “I know how to break the curse.”

Jim’s blood stilled in his veins. “So why haven’t you done it already? If this is some messed-up form of self-punishment—“

“It is not. The curse can only be broken by my wedding a human.”

He swore, in that moment, his heart stopped beating.

Suddenly it all made sense. The daily proposals. The cryptic sayings. His ‘faerie’ telling him to follow his heart and not trust his eyes.

_‘Is there any way to undo the curse?’ he had asked._

_Spock’s muzzle twitched. ‘I am looking into it.’_

He had known, of course, that any old human would do for Spock. But knowing it and knowing it in this context, in the context of their dreams, in the context of last night, was a very different thing. And if just knowing it stung, then hearing it from Spock’s mouth should burn like fire.

To think he had stayed willingly.

“Say it,” he said.

“What?”

“I want to hear you say it,” he repeated. “In clear and concise terms, say exactly why you brought me here.”

“I needed a human to marry,” he said. “But Jim, that is not all that you are to me, my t’hy’la, I lo—“

“You were right,” he said. “When you said you hadn’t done anything to earn my trust. You were right.”

He continued walking.

“Will you ever come back?”

“I don’t know, Spock. I don’t know,” he said, hand on the doorknob. “I just need some time, okay? And space. I need to think things over.”

“Very well. May I ask that you return within—“

“No.” 

The door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

 

A month passed, and then another. The distance helped. It gave him new perspective.

Spock loved him. He knew that.

Spock wanted to marry him. He knew that as well.

The question was, what did he want?

He didn’t know.

He went back to work. He soldiered iron and drew up schematics with Scotty. He helped out around the cottage. He hung out with McCoy at the local tavern, drinking down both their pay until they forgot why they each thought they needed to.

He went home.

It felt different.

His family looked at him different. Or maybe it was him who looked at them different. It was like… it was like in the time he had been gone, he had suddenly become too old to live in his parents’ house anymore, even though he was unmarried. He had grown up. He was a man now, and it was time he started a family of his own.

He tried courting some of the local girls. They were all beautiful, charming. Couldn’t hold his interest for very long. His mind kept wandering back to a wintry castle deep in the woods, and the not-quite-human man who lived there.

It felt different.

Spock loved him. He would take him back in a heartbeat.

After all, he had no other options. Jim was his last resort. The last-ditch option to try when all else fails. A means to an end.

It had, of course, been the logical thing to do.

Spock had said to let his heart guide him but what if his heart was stupid? His stupid, illogical heart wanted to go marry a man and build them a cottage just outside of town and live there forever. Spock’s appearance as fay and his ability to enchant would ensure they were never bothered, and Jim would make sure they were well provided for. They could have a dog and a big fire on cold nights and a bed they shared with a fine wedding quilt draped over it.

He really hated logic.

He decided it couldn’t hurt to pay Spock one last visit. Get him out of his system and move on. Maybe have sex with him one time just to see what it was like.

A taste of Spock, that was all he needed. Then he would be good. He would do as expected of him. He would continue his work as a blacksmith and forget about that enticing forbidden knowledge from the heavens. He would marry one of the girls in town and have a few kids with her. He would teach them his trade, see them married off, and die of the pox while in his forties.

A good life. A stable life. The life he had always been prepared to live.

Man did not need adventure in order to survive.

He did not wonder if Spock’s spaceship still worked because it was none of his business.

He just got on his horse and rode to the castle for what would definitely, positively, surely be the last time.

The gates didn’t swing open to greet him. He had to tether his horse to a post and climb over them to get in.

The castle seemed even more quiet than usual, almost deadly silent, like a cemetery full of spirits just seconds away from being disturbed. He pulled open the heavy door hesitantly.

Inside, it was dark. The oil in all the lanterns had burned itself out and never been refilled. Jim had to fumble in a closet for a candelabra to light his way.

“Spock?” he called out. His voice echoed through the empty halls. Had the castle always been this eerie?

And big. Far too big for just one person all alone.

He headed up to the master bedroom, his riding boots resounding on the stone stairs. He knocked, and the door creaked and swung open on its own.

Spock lay fallen on the ground, his body cold.

“Spock!” He rushed to him, kneeling at his side, pressing his ear to his chest, desperate to hear a heartbeat. He was cold. He was so cold. Jim pulled the layers of blankets off the bed and threw them over him. He lit a massive fire and fed it all the tinder he could find, along with some of the biggest logs.

And then, thank the gods, Spock shook. 

Jim nearly cried in relief.

* * *

 

Spock blinked awake slowly. He was wrapped in an enormous pile of blankets, laying curled up before the fire in his bedroom.

Was this death?

“I thought you were dead,” Jim said, alerting Spock to his presence on a nearby couch.

“As did I.”

“What the hell happened, Spock? Have you not been taking care of yourself?”

He hadn’t, not really, but that wasn’t what had caused this. It had never been that extreme. “When you first came here, you became bonded to my lifeforce in such a way that your absence began to sap the life from me.”

“Why _the fuck_ didn’t you tell me that?”

“I attempted to,” he said. “On that last day, I attempted to ask that you return before two months had passed. You did not give me the chance.”

“You chose then of all moments to start talking,” he said in monotone. For a second, he sounded Vulcan. It was deeply unsettling coming from one so incredibly human.

“I know you have no reason to accept my apologies—“

“You’re an asshole,” he said. “Don’t you dare apologize for _dying._ Just—stop. Stop for one second and just listen.”

Spock obeyed.

“Will you marry me?”


End file.
